Screening
by Alexandra Spar
Summary: The movie is out; the reviews are still coming in. What does this mean for the wizarding world? What will Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco think of it when they are sent to view it as a special assignment from Dumbledore?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related indicia belong to JK Rowling and publishers and Warner Brothers, not me, and I'm not getting anything for this, and no copyright infringement is intended, so shove off, lawyers.

Screening

Jason Howell liked his job as a ticket-taker for Loews Theaters. He got to meet interesting people every day, and he felt like he was giving them each a little magic as he handed them back their ticket stubs and directed them to their separate theaters. Each new movie seemed like a new form of existence to Jason Howell. When _Hannibal_ came out, he spent several weeks reading cookbooks and working on a recipe for sauteed brains so as to deepen his rapport with the characters in the movie. 

November of 2001 was a strange month for Howell, however. The weather kept brightening and then fading to typical autumn chill; the general atmosphere of Loews Theaters fluctuated from overjoyed to bitter and disappointed. He found himself discussing these issues with Jane Berryman, the Popcorn Girl. "It's like something bizarre has come over the entire world," he said. "Everything's, you know, like topsy turvy."

"Unh," said the Popcorn Girl, bored. 

"Like, all these new trailers seem to be about some weird movie with broomsticks and some kid with glasses. Before, things were different. It was like movies were all about the guy who falls for the girl and funny stuff happens and then he gets the girl."

"Eh."

But Jason Howell had no further chance to discuss the changing nature of the world with the unresponsive Popcorn Girl, because a horde of people had just entered the theater and were waving their movie tickets in a helpless sort of way. He hurried back to his station and assumed his Working Smile.

"Over here, folks," he grinned. "If I could just see your tickets for a second..."

The group of people stared at each other, and turned to face him. The leader, an extremely pale boy with hair so blonde it looked silver, lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "This?" he asked, holding out the ticket. Jason grinned at him, feeling the grin losing momentum.

"Yeah," he said. He plucked the ticket from the blonde boy's fingers and ripped it neatly in half. "Down the hall and to the right, theater number ten." The boy was staring at him; as Jason watched, he transferred his gaze to the ripped ticket, and back up to Jason's face. Jason was suddenly aware that his eyes were a very clear light grey, the exact color of cigarette smoke in rain.

One of the others pushed forward. "It's okay, Malfoy," said the newcomer, a girl with bushy brown hair and a rather authoritative mien. "Just do what he says. I'll explain later."

_Explain what?_ Jason thought. _Ticket-taking procedure?_

The rest of the group handed over their tickets and proceeded off down the hall towards the theater that was showing the Harry Potter Movie, the most anticipated cinematic occurrence since....Jason considered...._The Matrix_. Weird, he thought. They kinda looked like some of the people on the trailer. Especially that blonde dude with the gelled back hair.

Malfoy leaned weakly against the inside of the theater door. "They're everywhere," he muttered. "Muggles....staring at me...."

"Well," said Harry shortly, "you don't exactly make that difficult, do you? What with the hair and the leather trousers and the black trenchcoat, you sort of stand out in a crowd."

"What?" Draco protested, staring down at himself. "I happen to have exquisite taste."

"Well, park it in a seat and shut up," Harry told him firmly. "We're only here to do research, anyway. Don't make more of a scene than you already have, and we might actually be able to observe the Muggles. Kay?"

Draco let himself be led to an empty row of seats, and installed in one between Harry and Hermione, to insulate him from Ron. Ron had been giving him filthy looks ever since they'd been called into Dumbledore's office a week ago for a debriefing.

_"I can't work with him!" both Malfoy and Ron had spat almost in unison, upon hearing of their assignment. Dumbledore had looked as if he was trying his damnedest not to laugh, but had told them seriously that their personal issues were not to get in the way of finding out information about the Muggle view of the wizarding world._

"We have had reports of a Muggle "movie" chronicling the events of your first year at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "It has spread too far and too fast for us to merely Obliviate all the Muggles who have heard of it; rather, we need to know exactly how inaccurately or accurately it portrays wizarding life, so that we can decide what changes to make in security. You four, being as how your stories are being told in this movie, are the perfect candidates for the job."

Malfoy, Weasley, Granger and Potter had stared at one another—Malfoy in abject horror, Granger with interest and excitement, Potter with a sort of world-weary cynicism and Weasley with fury. He had actually shaken his fist at Draco, which amused Draco no end and clearly made Dumbledore try even harder not to laugh. "There will be no further discussion of this matter," said the Headmaster. "You will all meet up here exactly one week from now at noon and take the Portkey to the Muggle "movietheater" where you will view this film. You are dismissed."

Hermione rummaged in her pockets. "I'm going to go and get some food," she whispered to Harry. "D'you want anything?"

"I could do with some popcorn," he hissed back. "And some of those...what're they called....m&ms, to throw at the screen if it's really bad."

Hermione giggled. "What about you, Ron?"

"I'm fine," muttered Ron, staring at Malfoy with a Stare of Death. Draco tipped his lovely head towards them, raised an eyebrow.

"What are we conspiring about now?" he asked lazily.

"Nothing," said Ron. Draco shrugged. 

"If you're going down to the food place, Granger," he drawled, "you could pick me up some Gummi Bears."

"Gummi Bears, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, straight-faced.

"Yes. I like biting their little heads off. Not as good as Chocolate Frogs, but what can you expect in a world without magic? My father's drug-smuggler friends used to bring me Muggle candy when I was younger." He subsided back into the seat, letting his eyes slide shut, assuming his bidding would necessarily be done. Hermione shook her head in wonderment before hurrying down to the concession stand.

Back in the theater, Ron was clenching and unclenching his hands on the armrests, rhythmically. Harry flicked a glance between him and Malfoy, who was still reclining in the seat, regarding the screen with half-closed eyes. He didn't seem to care that Ron's urge to kill him was rising. Harry sighed. Malfoy had mellowed out a great deal in the past year, after his father had died in a freak Apparition accident and he had renounced the Death Eater guild membership, but he and Ron continued to cordially despise one another. Having to work together on a project like this was a classical teacher's way of Getting Problem Students To Overcome Interpersonal Differences, but Harry had his doubts about it working in this case. He himself didn't hate Malfoy any more; he didn't much like him, either, but he no longer felt the same vitriolic hatred that was curling Ron's fingers into the dingy velveteen of the chair armrests. He sighed again. Time to do a bit of distraction. 

"Hey," he said, "what the hell is wrong with that kid's hair?"

A trailer had just popped up on the screen. A remarkably unconvincing animation of a child was running around on screen, his brown hair all one piece and curving up over his skull to form a sort of tear-drop shape. Malfoy frowned beautifully. Malfoy did everything beautifully.

"I don't know," he said sourly, "but the idea that Muggles voluntarily pay money to sit here in the sticky darkness and watch this kind of rubbish...well, frankly, Potter, it depresses me."

The badly-animated child was now leading an equally badly-animated army against a green individual with eyes on stalks. "Doesn't look so bad to me," drawled Malfoy. "Not like some of the things your Hagrid makes us deal with in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Don't you dare badmouth Hagrid!" Ron spat. Malfoy flicked a glance at him. 

"Weasel, Weasel, Weasel," he cajoled, "you mustn't be so defensive all the time. It makes you hard to get to know."

Harry thought Ron might have gone for him there and then if it hadn't been for the timely intervention of Hermione, returning with food. "Here you go," she said, handing Malfoy his Gummi Bears and Harry his popcorn and M&Ms. "You guys owe me twenty pounds."

Harry, who had grown up with Muggle money and knew the rates of exchange, sat up straight. "_Twenty pounds_? What's the popcorn popped in, white truffle oil?"

"We're a captive market," Hermione said mildly as she unwrapped a large bar of chocolate and began to gnaw at it. "I'll expect repayment in wizarding money upon our return to Hogwarts."

Ron looked rather glad he hadn't requested any food. 

"Oh, look," said Harry some time later. "The feature presentation. That's us, guys."  
Malfoy glanced at him, ate a Gummi Bear meditatively. "Thank you, Potter. The rest of us are so glad we've got you to tell us these things."

Harry flicked an M&M at him. "Be quiet. We're on a mission from Dumbledore."

Malfoy sighed theatrically and settled back in the chair. On the screen a suburban street was taking shape. A man with extremely long white hair and a beard to match appeared in the mists, and performed a complicated series of gestures with a thing that looked like a butane lighter; one by one all the lights on the street went out. "Dumbledore, I presume," said Draco.

"Who else? My, he's going to be interested to know what the Muggles think his hair looks like," said Hermione.

"I dread to think what they're going to do with you, Granger."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

The screen-Dumbledore approached a cat that was sitting on a low brick wall; the cat became a woman with a stern, wrinkled face and minute spectacles. "Heh," said Harry in a low voice. "She's not going to be happy with that. I'd put her in her mid-fifties. That lady looks a great deal older."

"In the interests of peace," said Malfoy, "I suggest you don't tell her that."

Ron pointed at the screen. "They've got it all wrong," he said. "Your house doesn't look like that. And since when did the Dursleys drive a shiny new silver car?"

"I think it's part of the attempt to make them more boring and suburban than they really are." Harry leaned back. "Look, it's Hagrid."

All four of them watched as a motorbike flew out of the sky and landed, smoking gently, on the street. An enormous man dismounted, holding a bundle in his arms. Malfoy snorted. 

"_That's_ Hagrid?" he demanded.

"Well, be fair," said Hermione, "they didn't have half-giants to use as a basis. Why, he's only about two or three feet taller than anyone else."

"Awwww," said Malfoy, pointing at the bundle in Hagrid's arms. "That's you, Potter. How cute."

"Was it really like that?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, I was a baby! And asleep!"

"Well, they've certainly made your famous scar less obvious," said Malfoy. "Look, it's tiny, and not even in the center of your forehead."

"Just shut up and watch the film, Malfoy."

The titles rolled across the screen, to be replaced with a scene of Harry in what was supposed to be his cupboard under the stairs. Harry stared. "They call _that_ a cupboard?" he demanded. "My God, it's practically a suite at the Savoy! I've got an actual _bed_ in there!"

"And you look ever so adorable," said Malfoy snidely. "I bet the Muggle girls are going to go absolutely insane over you. Look at that wide angelic face and that sweetly tousled hair." 

Harry gave him a look that rivalled Ron's. "I wonder what they'll make of you."

"Well, it's hardly going to be less than complimentary, is it? I mean, all the reports they have of me go on at length about my pallid, pointed beauty." Malfoy tilted his head to give them a profile view. "Regard the fine bone structure and the elegant features. I can't see where they'd go wrong."

"Let me at him," muttered Ron to Hermione, who had a death-grip on his arm. "Let me at him."

"And if that's supposed to be Dudley, he must've had some kind of control over the filmmakers, because he's missing about three stone in weight," Harry muttered. "That's svelte compared to Dudley."

Hermione frowned in incredulity. "How does he get through doorways?" she demanded.

"Sideways and at a bit of a run."

Events progressed. By the time they'd got to the little shack on the island and had met Hagrid again, Harry had run out of popcorn and Ron's eyes had gone almost as wide as house-elves' at the revelation of Harry's childhood traumas. Malfoy was regarding the screen with the same look of slightly amused disdain he used for almost everything that wasn't up to his standards, and Hermione looked as if she was mentally keeping a running tally of mistakes to report to Dumbledore when they returned. Harry noticed that the very tip of her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth, as it often did when she concentrated very hard. He swallowed. If this "movie" was supposed to describe the events of their first year, it would involve a lot of onscreen conversation between the three of them, including their early impressions of one another, which he wasn't at all sure he wished to revisit. He sighed and stole several of Malfoy's Gummi Bears, and bit the head off one in a small access of malice. 

_(To be continued when I've got some sleep and have come down off my Rickman/Felton high.)_


	2. Malfoy, meet Malfoy. Hermione, meet Snap...

Screening part 2

Standard disclaimer continues to apply: Harry Potter and related indicia belong to JK Rowling, publishers and Warner Bros, no infringement is intended and no money being made. Ya happy?

WARNING: contains MAJOR spoilers for the movie; don't read if you haven't seen it, unless you're not pressed to do so.

"Well," said Malfoy consideringly, "they got Diagon Alley more or less right. I'm not too happy that they haven't shown _me_ yet. You met me for the first time in Malkins, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Harry scowled at him, stuck his nose in the air and said in a nasal drawl, "Play Quidditch at all? _I _think it's a _crime_ that first-years aren't allowed their own brooms. _I'm_ going to bully my _Daddy_ into buying me one anyway. Nyeah nyeah nyeah."

Malfoy hit him, but not very hard. "Your acting ability is on a par with your choice of friends, Potty. I don't know, I'd have thought they'd be dying to put me in as soon as possible."

"That's because you're a conceited git," said Hermione comfortably. "Shut up. We've got to Ollivanders." Ron was seething quietly beside her, but eased off a bit when she handed him a sizeable piece of chocolate.

On the screen, the Harry-character was looking apprehensively around a large dusty shop. The walls were stacked high with wand-boxes of all different colors. Out of the stacks in the rear of the shop, a man who was clearly Ollivander slid into view mounted on a set of library steps. 

"Huh," said Harry. "Sort of looks like him. He hasn't got those weird silvery eyes though."

"They _are_ Muggles," Ron reminded him. "Probably can't make their eyes look like that."

"So much for verisimilitude," sighed Malfoy.

'Harry' was given a wand, which he waved and caused a bunch of the stacked boxes to fly chaotically off their shelves. Harry, in the audience, snorted. "Haven't they got any clue as to how wands work? If it's not the right one, it won't do much unless you actually use a spell. All that kid did was wiggle it about a bit."

"Made that vase blow up all right though, didn't it?" said Ron, eyes bright. "Cool!"

Ollivander handed Harry a third wand, which made the air around him swirl and fluttered his hair. ("What? No sparks?") The screen-Harry looked with wide eyes at Ollivander as he murmured something about the wand's brother. 

"Was he really that creepy?" Ron whispered. "I mean, I got my second wand from him, but he didn't go all weird and intense on me like that."

"He was pretty strange," said Harry. "Wait, what the hell? Where are we supposed to be now?"

The screen showed Hagrid and Harry eating at a long table in what looked like a back room of the Leaky Cauldron. "That's not what happened! We went to McDonalds!"

"Don't tell me you'd rather eat fast food than Leaky Cauldron food," Hermione muttered. "I'd be gravely disappointed."

"No, it's just....oh, and now we're skipping over the ENTIRE rest of the summer with the Dursleys. Great. No one gets to know about _that_ misery."

"They're just moving the plot along," Malfoy told him. "Hush. I should be coming up soon."

Harry gave him a look, but subsided. On the screen, Hagrid was leaving Harry with his trolley of school supplies all alone in Kings Cross. Lost, he ended up pushing his trolley to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and asked a guard about platform 9 ¾. Ron was leaning slightly forward in his seat with anticipation. 

"...packed with Muggles," said an acerbic female voice from the speakers. Ron blanched, gripping the armrests, as the screen-Harry pushed his trolley forward to see a clump of red-haired people following a small dumpy woman towards the barrier. Malfoy snorted.

"_That's_ your mother, Weasel? My, my."

"You shut up, Malfoy," he muttered, but he too was frowning. "Is that _me_?"

"I think it is," said Hermione. "Ssshh." The woman was directing 'Percy' to the barrier; as they watched, he ran full tilt at it with his trolley, and disappeared. All four of them sat back in their seats in shock.

"Did you just see that?" Malfoy asked. Harry flicked a glance at him, looked back at the screen. 

"I think it's called special effects, or something. Making stuff look like it's happening when it's not."

"Illusions, you mean?" Hermione frowned as the putative Weasley twins followed Percy through the barrier.

"Nonmagical ones."

"Dumbledore's going to be interested in that," said Ron. "Oh, look, that must be me."

Malfoy burst out laughing, eliciting a storm of "Hush!"es from the surrounding seats. "Weasel, you're priceless," he snorted. "You look like you're about to be sick!"

"Shut _up_, Malfoy," Ron hissed. "I'm looking forward to seeing _you_."

Mrs. Weasley was directing Harry through the barrier. A moment later they were staring at a very familiar gleaming red locomotive wreathed in clouds of steam. "D'you suppose they used the real Hogwarts Express?" Hermione muttered. "It's uncanny."

"Dunno. The inside's a bit too modern, though. Should be worn red velvet." Harry squinted at the screen. "Look, Ron, it's you again."

Malfoy was seized with a sniggering fit. Harry smacked him. "Pay attention, idiot. Your big debut scene should be soon."

Harry and Ron appeared to hit it off quite well, especially after Harry produced a pocketful of money and purchased the entire food trolley's contents. ("What? Jeez, that's obnoxious," muttered the real Harry. "What's everyone else supposed to eat?") Scabbers the rat was introduced ("Hi, Pettigrew!") and a girl who could only be Hermione appeared in the doorway. The real Hermione stared, her eyes wide. 

"My, my," said Malfoy dryly, "they didn't do much for your hair, did they?"

"I was _eleven_," hissed Hermione. "I wasn't much for hair potions back then!"

"And you seem to be a thoroughly objectionable young lady," Malfoy remarked. 

"Well..." said Ron...."we did sort of, um, not like you a lot when we first met."

"No kidding," said Hermione. "Was I really that bad?"

"Close," Harry said. "Your voice was a bit lower though."

"Good."

"Gaah!" Malfoy clutched at his bag of Gummi Bears. "What? You can't do that! You can't skip over my scene!"

The Hogwarts Express had just pulled into Hogsmeade and Hagrid, lantern held in one huge hand, was bellowing "Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!" 

"Awwww," said Ron nastily, "is ickle Draco disappointed that he didn't get an entrance?"

"I repeat, Weasel," said Malfoy as coldly as he could, "_you_ look like you're about to be sick. I'd rather not show up at all than show up like that."

Ron lunged at him, but Hermione held him back. "Shut up!" she hissed to both of them. "We're going to get kicked out!"

The castle of Hogwarts appeared, huge and complicated and glowing with a million candlelit windows. Ron, in the boat with Harry, mouthed something like "Wicked," eliciting a snort from Malfoy. The scene cut to the interior, a staircase with a horde of black-clad students hurrying up towards where McGonagall stood. A blonde boy separated himself from the group and leaned against the banister at the top of the stairs, joined by two largish dark-haired students. Malfoy swallowed.

"Is that..."

"Ssshhhh!"

McGonagall was telling them about the Houses. The shot changed to a closeup of the blond boy leaning on the banister. He had an unpleasantly smug smile on his face, which (Harry had to admit) was rather more attractive than the others'; he nodded as McGonagall said "Slytherin."

"It is you," he hissed. Malfoy had his head on one side and was regarding the screen thoughtfully. 

"Not bad," he said after a moment. "The hair's too yellow, but not bad at all."

Ron gave him the Look of Death again. McGonagall, on the screen, disappeared, and the shot returned to Malfoy. 

"So it's true," he said. His voice was rather high, but clear and well-bred. "What they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. It's you, is it?" He detached himself from the banister and approached the Harry boy. "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle. I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

The Ron boy sniggered. Eleven-year-old Draco stared at him for a moment. 

"Think my name's funny, do you?" He gave Ron a considering glance. "No need to ask who you are. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe...you must be a Weasley."

The real Malfoy crowed with delight. "Well said, me!"

"Shut _up_, Malfoy," said Harry, Ron and Hermione in unison. The younger Malfoy was continuing.

"...I can help you there," he finished, and held out his hand to Harry, who didn't take it.

"I think I can work out who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said. Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Just then McGonagall returned and announced that the Sorting was to begin.

"What an ill-mannered little git you were, to be sure, Potter," said Malfoy, turning to Harry. "I offer you my friendship, and you totally blow me off."

"Well," said Harry, "at least they got that much right." He smiled widely at Malfoy. "Ooh, look, more illusions! I mean special effects." The Great Hall, its four student tables already packed with kids, spread out before them. They watched Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Harry being Sorted ("Didn't even have to touch my head! Hah! I was so born to be in Slytherin!") before the scene skipped to Dumbledore's announcements and the beginning of the Feast. 

"Oh my God," said Hermione weakly, plucking at Harry's sleeve. "_Look_."

The screen showed them a closeup of a man with tousled black hair and an unpleasant expression on his chiseled features. "Is that..."

"...Professor Snape," said the screen-Percy.

"Hermione? You okay?"

"I'm fine," she muttered. "Just....whoa. I wasn't expecting that."

"He _does_ sort of look like Snape," said Malfoy, thoughtfully. "Not greasy enough. But the face is rather close."

"Give me a Gummi Bear, Malfoy," said Hermione hoarsely. "I need one."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her, but handed over the bag. "You've gone mental, Granger," he said easily. "It's just Snape. You've foiled the real Snape before."

Hermione didn't answer; she was staring at the screen. Malfoy exchanged a puzzled glance with Harry, and even Ron. In due course, the Feast ended, and the Gryffindors were led by a thoroughly officious Percy up to their common room. Everyone agreed that the common room was rather frighteningly accurate. 

"Your eyes are wrong, Potter," Malfoy mused. "They're green, right? Famously green. Like emeralds. Or....as one famous poet put it....like fresh-pickled toads. A thoroughly evocative simile, I've always thought. But your eyes there—" he waved at the screen—"are not. They're sort of bluish-green. You'd think that the Muggle illusionists would've picked up on that one."

"I didn't know you'd made such a study of my eyes, Malfoy," said Harry mildly. "Should I be flattered or frightened?"

Malfoy made a disgusted noise and redirected his gaze firmly at the screen.

"I think your eyes are okay," said Ron loyally. Harry grinned at him. 

"At least I don't look like I used an entire vat of Sleekeazy Potion on my hair," he agreed, with a look in Malfoy's direction, which was met with steely disdain. Hermione, still clutching the armrest of the seat, bit off the head of a Gummi Bear with surprising force, staring at the screen. She was muttering something under her breath that sounded like "more Snape, more Snape, more Snape."

Again, TBC when I've got time and energy. Went to see the movie again today. Heh. I think we scared the people at Sheetz when we arrived fresh from the theater at one in the morning and demanded chocolate and coffee....still in our Hogwarts robes. Oh, well.


	3. Quidditch and Humiliation. Repost becaus...

Screening part three (repost, due to at least one major error, sorry guys)

"Awwww, lookit Harry in his pyjamas being all lonesome and thoughtful," sighed Malfoy, reclaiming his Gummi Bears from Hermione. "Hey, you horrible woman, you ate all the green ones."

"I'll buy you more," said Hermione, still staring intently at the screen and not paying attention to the looks Malfoy was shooting the other two. The scene changed to presumably the next morning, and Ron and Harry were hurtling down a corridor towards their classes. 

"Look, Malfoy, you're in the front row," said Harry. "Swotty little git, aren't you?"

Malfoy favored him with a glare. "At least I was on time, Potter." He regarded the screen. "And at least I didn't insult the teacher to her face on the first day of classes."

"We didn't do that," Ron retorted. "That's sheer Muggle invention, that is. She started off class as her, and did the cat thing after lecturing us about how difficult everything was going to be."

"Eep," said Hermione in a little voice and clung to the chair armrests. The screen now showed a rather dusty-looking classroom hung with the sort of glassware one sees in the better class of head shop and in old-fashioned apothecaries: alembics, retorts, bizarre bulbous flasks full of coloured liquids. Rather cute little cauldrons bubbled over gas burners on the desks. The door at the rear of the classroom burst open and Professor Snape stalked through it, looking decidedly unpleasant. Malfoy watched with interest as he tossed off a comment about frivolous wand-waving over his shoulder and took up his position at the head of the class. Harry nudged Ron. 

"Look," he said. Hermione was staring at Snape with her eyes wide and bright, her mouth slightly open, and her fingers going white on the armrests. She was muttering something under her breath. Harry couldn't make it out. "Herm? You all right?"

"Ssshhhhh!" she hissed. "He's _talking!_"

Puzzled, Harry subsided back into his seat and watched the eleven-year-old Harry Potter on the screen copying down Snape's classic bottle-fame-distill-glory-and-stopper-death speech word for word. Malfoy sniggered.

"Ooh," he said, "trying to make up for our bad impression in Transfiguration, are we? Potty, I'd no idea you took notes during Snape's forays into hyperbole."

"I didn't," he hissed. "I just kind of tried to look inconspicuous. Which wasn't easy, considering you and your lunks were flicking puffer-fish eyes at me the whole time."

"Ah, but you deserved it," said Malfoy lightly. "Imagine not knowing what a bezoar is."

Harry sighed. "Shut up, Malfoy, and hand over those Gummi Bears before Hermione has a seizure."

"She seems very taken with Snape," Malfoy remarked. "Funny. She hates him in real life."

"You seem pretty entranced," muttered Ron. "Look." The screen-Malfoy and the screen-Snape shared a long calculating glance. Eleven-year-old Malfoy smiled suddenly, a smile of such heartbreaking beauty that even Ron shut up for a moment. Then the look of bored upper-class superiority returned. The scene shifted to the Great Hall, and Hermione seemed to relax a bit. "Herm?" Ron asked. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said brightly. "Just trying to, um, concentrate on the dialogue, to see how accurate they're being."

"Horsefeathers," said Malfoy, as elegantly as anyone can say "horsefeathers." "You just wanted to ogle Snape without interruption."

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione nervously. "They showed you as being pretty smitten by him."

"Ah, but that's because that kid's acting," Malfoy pointed out. "That one isn't, though." He indicated the one playing Ron, who was happily shovelling lunch into his mouth. 

"You're just saying that to piss Ron off," said Harry.

"Is it working?"

Something on the screen exploded just then and drowned out the chorus of "Shut up, Malfoy." Owls appeared and delivered the post ("You mean they think we get mail at lunchtime? What are we supposed to read at breakfast, pray?") , Neville got his Remembrall, and Harry read out the article about the Gringotts break-in to Ron ("Oooh, plot development!"), after which the Great Hall disappeared and was replaced by a grassy courtyard on which a number of broomsticks were laid out. 

"My, those look uncomfortable," said Malfoy. They did. They were knobbly and thick-handled, and the twigs were cursorily bound to the tail-end in a way that made Harry wonder again about Muggles' ideas of what was and was not possible in magic. Nobody could fly on a broom like that. It wouldn't leave the ground.

"Hold your right hand over your broom and say UP," said Madam Hooch. Her astonishing hawk-yellow eyes had made even Malfoy suck in his breath ("Strewth!") and she had the right sort of authoritative, commanding voice for the flying teacher. Both Harry and Draco managed to make their brooms obey on the first try, but Ron's broom smacked him roundly between the eyes, eliciting howls of laughter from the screen Harry and the real Malfoy. 

"Shut up," said Ron furiously. "That never happened, all right? It's all fake."

"Sure it is," gasped Malfoy, wiping his streaming eyes. "...whack...." Harry nudged him ungently with an elbow. 

"Look, Neville's in trouble," he said, effectively distracting Malfoy from Ron and directing his attention at Longbottom's misfortune instead. All three of them winced as Neville's broom did its best to destroy itself against the wall of the castle and then hooked him neatly by the back of his robes on one of the statues' swords. There was a fraught moment before the robes ripped and he was deposited peremptorily on the ground. "I don't remember any of that," mused Harry. "As far as I recall he just flew up into the air and fell off. He didn't bounce off any walls."

Madam Hooch ushered the weeping Neville off to the hospital wing, and Malfoy sat back to watch his avatar do battle with Harry. The young Malfoy had Neville's Remembrall and was tossing it idly in the air. "If that idiot had remembered to give this a squeeze," he drawled, "he might have _remembered_ to land on his fat arse." The group of students snickered. 

"Delivery needs work," said the real Malfoy thoughtfully. "The emotion's there, right enough, but the enunciation and emphasis could use a bit of intensity."

Harry and Ron glared at him. Hermione was still staring absently at the screen, clearly a long way away. Ron poked Harry in the ribs. "Look, here comes your big moment," he whispered. 

The young Harry advanced on Malfoy, who was still tossing the Remembrall up in the air. "Give it here, Malfoy," he said. Malfoy turned, the light catching his eyes and making their brilliant clear grey stand out.

"No," he said nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," and he stepped onto his broom's tail and rose smoothly into the air, circling around the group of students with insolent ease. "How about on the roof?"

Harry glared after him and made to mount his own broom, but Hermione caught his sleeve. "Harry, _no_," she said. Ron and Harry, in the audience, snickered. 

"She's good," said Ron. "Got your bossiness down perfectly."

Hermione glared at him, just as the screen-Hermione said coldly, "What an idiot." She grinned at the coincidence. On the screen, Malfoy was hovering easily thirty feet over the group of students, watching as Harry maneuvered his broom shakily through the air. 

"Bit out of your reach?" he drawled. Harry gave him the Look of Death.

"Give it here or I'll knock you off your broom," he said. Malfoy gave him a little smile, and executed a horizontal 360-degree spin as Harry lunged at him. 

"Have it your way," he said, throwing the words back over his shoulder, and flung the Remembrall into the sky, watching as Harry drove his broom forward after it. The real Malfoy grinned. 

"And off you go, Potter. I don't recall you doing any of those fancy acrobatics, actually. I remember you nearly piling the broom into the courtyard and just managing to catch the thing after a forty-foot dive. And I didn't throw the Remembrall _at_ anything, especially not McGonagall's window. That would be foolish."

"This version's more interesting," said Harry. "I don't actually recall you doing that nifty spin thing, either. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Malfoy drawled. "Can't you?"

"Er, yeah," said Harry quickly. "Learnt it ages ago."

The screen showed McGonagall introducing Wood and Harry to one another. Hermione perked up a bit when Wood got his first close-up; he was a rather surprisingly attractive dark-haired boy with a lovely lilting accent that seemed, unlike Hagrid's, to be genuine. Ron and Harry sighed as she stared at the screen-Wood. "Pity the Muggles don't know what he really looks like," muttered Ron. "That guy's going to have millions of obsessed girls running around after him."

The hallway replaced the closeup of Wood. Harry and Ron, amid a clump of other students, hurried along it. "Did you hear?" said Nearly Headless Nick to the Grey Lady, sweeping across the screen, "Harry Potter's the new Gryffindor Seeker. I always knew he'd do well."

"What? You just met him!" Malfoy said, incredulous. "Jeez, Potter, your fan club extends beyond death."

"Yep," said Harry comfortably. "It's my scintillating personality, don't you know."

Malfoy gave him the Look of Death. 

"Hey!" Harry ignored Malfoy's Look of Death and pointed at the screen. "McGonagall on the same award as my dad? Who knew?"

"Note the no mention of Charlie Weasley anywhere?" Ron asked offhandedly. "Just wondering. He could've played for England, you know."

"Would you lot shut up about Quidditch already?" snapped Hermione. "I wanna see more Snape!"

"Hah," said Malfoy triumphantly. "She admits it." Hermione went very red and shrank back in her seat. "There's nothing to worry about," he went on, "when we get back to Hogwarts, you can go and confess your undying love for him, and who knows? Maybe he'll even reveal his secret lust for Granger the Brain. Ah, the sweet romance you two would have in the Potions classroom," he expanded on his theme, with gesticulations, "'Oh, Professor Snape, I think you're really handsome, with your evil glare and your hooked nose!' 'Oh, Miss Granger, I must avert my eyes in the presence of such unutterable bushy-haired beauty!'"

This time Harry hit him quite hard, and he shut up for a while, nursing a bruised rib and glaring at them with a look of abused 'who, me?' innocence. Hermione turned a brilliant smile on Harry.

"Well done," she said. "I'd have done it myself, but, you know....you're better at it than me."

"Thanks," said Harry and swelled with pride. Malfoy made a disgusted noise.

"If you two are quite finished being cute, perhaps we could continue watching this movie?"


	4. WinGARdium LeviOsa

Screening part four

They had run out of Gummi Bears. In itself, this would not have been such a bad thing, but Hermione had made inroads on Harry's M&Ms in the absence of Gummi Bears, and Harry was beginning to lose patience. What was _wrong_ with her? It was just Snape. Admittedly, a rather more attractive Snape than the one they were used to, but still recognizably their potions master. Why was Hermione being all twitchy about him?

Harry reclaimed his M&Ms and stared stonily at the screen, which was showing the vast atrium of Hogwarts, criscrossed with staircases. One of them suddenly moved.

"Hey," said Ron. "It's not like that. Not really. It'd be too easy to fall off one of those and go splat on the entrance hall floor, they'd never have that sort of setup in the real world."

"Looks good, though," said Malfoy. "Look, the Muggles are all impressed, how sweet."

He was right. All around them, the Muggle families were pointing and going "ooooh" in surprised admiration. Harry sighed.

"Pity they don't know what it's really like," he said absently. 

Malfoy gave him a few seconds of the direct grey eyes. "Potter, think about it. The further from the truth they are, the better." He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "Now shut up and watch, you're about to do something stupid."

"We are not," said Ron. Malfoy sniggered.

"Sneaking around in the verboten third floor? Oh, yes, very wise, Weasley. I wouldn't be surprised if you got eaten by something."

Ron scowled at him. "Be a short film, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed."

On the screen, Harry, Hermione and Ron crept down a rather chthonic-looking corridor illuminated by torches that flared to life as they approached. Out of the shadows crept a cat whose eyes had been altered to appear red. She sat down on the floor and stared at them, and said in a very unpleasant way, "Meow."

"It's Filch's cat!" 

"Run," said Harry. They ran, noisily.

"Ah, Mrs. Norris," said Malfoy dreamily. "When I think of all the times you got the dream team into trouble...or prevented them from running about the school after hours....or got Harry accused of being the heir of Slytherin..."

"Bloody mangy little mog," muttered Ron. "I never did like cats."

The trio on the screen had taken refuge behind a door Hermione had unlocked with "Alohomora." The real Hermione cringed a bit in her seat as the girl playing her rolled her eyes in ineffable superiority, but everyone's attention was quickly directed at the gigantic three-headed dog on whom the three children had intruded.

"Fluffy!" Ron said. Both Harry and Hermione shuddered at the memory. "He's too big. The one we met was about half that size. Still well scary, though." 

"My," drawled Malfoy. "How exciting your first year was, to be sure. Why aren't they showing more of me?"

"Because you're a horrible little ferrety pillock," said Ron distractedly. "Wait, how are we supposed to have gotten back down to the Gryffindor dorms with the staircases doing that weird moving thing?"

"Suspend your disbelief," Hermione told him. Her avatar, on the screen, put her little hands on her hips and fixed the boys with an air of being put-upon. 

"Now," she said sniffily, "_if_ you don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you comes up with any _more_ brilliant ways to get us all killed. Or worse, _expelled_." She turned, in a whirl of frizzled hair, and flounced into the girls' dorm. Ron, on the stairs, looked at Harry. 

"She really needs to work on her priorities," he said. The real Ron grinned. 

"Heh! One for me, eh, Harry? Look at that, I was witty!"

Hermione groaned. "God, was I that awful? Did I really talk like that?"

"Er," said Harry. "Sort of. You did a lot of "Hmmmph"-ing and you tended to walk about with your nose in the air, but your voice wasn't that high."

"Good," said Hermione in a small voice. Malfoy gave her a glance, but surprisingly passed over the chance to stick in a verbal barb.

The scene shifted to an exterior shot of Harry and an older boy—Wood—lugging a box out onto the grass. Wood opened it to reveal what were apparently supposed to be Quidditch balls. "Wot?" demanded the real Harry. "If that's a Quaffle it looks like someone's taken great scoops out of it, it's not round at all!"

"Ten points to Potter for stating the obvious," said Malfoy, looking at the screen between his long lashes. "By the way, Potty, what are you doing out of school uniform? Look, not a sign of a badge or a tie."

"Maybe they just happen to like the way I look in, uh, casual dress."

Malfoy sniggered. "You keep telling yourself that."

Hermione was staring at the Wood-boy, consideringly. "Hmmm," she said. "Uh, Harry, did Wood really look like that? I remember him as being sort of nondescript and muscular."

"Now that you mention it," said Harry, "no. That kid's far too attractive to be Wood. Note to self; complain about casting choices."

Ron said nothing. Malfoy shot him a glance and was rewarded with a look of burning dislike before Ron went back to staring at the screen Oliver. A little smile crept over Malfoy's face, and he settled back to watch.

The movie Harry and the movie Oliver were progressing through the contents of the Quidditch trunk. Malfoy watched with interest as Oliver freed one of the Bludgers, which immediately careened up into the sky with a faint muttering noise. It described a lovely parabola before heading back down towards the two boys on the grass.

"...go on, hit him, hit him, hit him..."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

The screen-Harry thwacked the Bludger, which flew neatly through the crossed swords of a statue and circled around for another go. Harry frowned. "I don't remember it being quite like that," he said, but just then Oliver leapt at the Bludger and all four of them leaned forward in their seats in horrified anticipation. However, far from breaking all of his ribs, the Bludger was neatly caught and slotted back into its holder in the trunk. Hermione, Harry and Ron let out sighs of relief; Malfoy sighed in annoyance and leaned back. Oliver was talking.

"You're a Seeker," he said, in a delicious accent. "The only thing I want you to worry about is...._this_." He plucked a little golden ball from a special socket in the trunk. "The Golden Snitch."

Harry held out his hand, and the Snitch was placed on it. Suddenly little insectile wings unwrapped themselves from it, and it lifted off, buzzing. 

"What the hell?" said Ron. "That's not a Snitch. That's a big golden fly!"

"The wings are wrong," agreed Harry. "They ought to be little silvery bird wings. That looks more like a fat golden cicada than a fly, though."

"Insect," Ron conceded. "And why the hell'd he let it go if you've not got a broom to catch it on?"

"Pillock," said Malfoy comfortably. "Attractive, but a pillock."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

The scene shifted to another of the dingy classrooms. A tiny teacher with rather wild hair perched atop a huge pile of books at the front of the classroom. "Flitwick," said Hermione. "Who else could it be?"

Indeed, it was Flitwick, as they found out. He began to lecture about Levitation. They noticed that there were white ostrich feathers laid out in front of every pair of students. "Did we do Levitation our first day of classes with Flitwick?" Ron asked absently.

"Don't think so. I don't honestly remember."

"Oh, I remember this lesson," said Hermione brightly. "Wingardium Leviosa. Quite easy really."

On the screen, Malfoy pointed his wand at the feather and intoned "Win_gar_dium Levio_sa_," which elicited no movement at all from the feather. The real Malfoy smacked his forehead. "Jeez," he muttered. "I sound like a total moron."

"Yeah, you do, Malfoy," said Ron, but shut up when the screen-Ron ended up whacking the feather repeatedly with his wand. Hermione, next to him, caught his wand, and gave him another one of those rolling-eye condescending looks.

"You're _going_ to put someone's _eye_ out," she drawled. "Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Win_gar_dium Levi_o_sa." 

"You do it then, if you're so clever," snapped Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes again ("You'd think they'd come out of her head, wouldn't you?" said Malfoy) and swish-flicked her wand at the feather. 

"Win_gar_dium Levi_o_sa," she said, and the feather floated lightly into the air with the motion of her wand. The screen-Flitwick applauded her ability. In the theater, all three boys turned to Hermione and glared.

"What?" she demanded. "I wasn't really that horrid, was I? I mean, all I did was pronounce the words right, it's not like...Ow! Malfoy, you little bastard, quit throwing things at me!"

"That was me, actually," said Harry, beaning her with a second M&M. "Win_gar_dium Levi_o_sa indeed." Malfoy cackled, but was rewarded with an elbow in his already-bruised ribs.

"Shut up, you lot," said Hermione. "Watch the movie."

The class had let out, and Harry paced with Ron across the courtyard. Ron was clearly bitching about Hermione. "Honestly," he said. "She's a nightmare." From behind them, Hermione hurried past, sniffling.

"You bastard," said Hermione absently. "I remember that now. You were so bloody obnoxious. Just because I was good at school..."

"Oooh," said Malfoy nastily, "trouble in the Dream Team's ranks? My my, I never would have thought you'd be so cruel to one of your own, Weasel."

"Shut up, Malfoy. That was ages ago. We made friends, remember? Friends. Not like you." Ron glared at Malfoy, who flicked a green M&M at him with an angelic smile.

"Ah yes," said Malfoy. "I recall. You and your friends."

"Shut up, the lot of you," said Harry, who was getting tired of it. "The troll bit's coming up, and I want to see how the Muggle illusionists manage that. Everyone knows Muggles don't know anything about trolls."

"They seem to know a great deal about _you_, though, don't they, Weasel?" inquired Malfoy.

"Malfoy, I'm warning you," said Ron, who was looking at the screen. "One more crack like that and your head is going to be introduced to the floor. At speed."

"He's right, you know," said Harry. "I'm not sure I can hold him back, once you get him riled up. It's the red hair. Redheads always have awful tempers."

Malfoy toed the floor apprehensively. It was sticky.

"Fine," he said after a while. "But don't think you've won yet, Weasley. Oh no. Not by a long shot."

They leaned back and watched as the Halloween Ball began.


	5. Quidditch

Screening part 5

The Ball itself was hardly shown. All four of them thought this was pretty poor, given the Muggles' apparent ability to show things that weren't really there. Besides, the food was wrong. "Lollipops," said Malfoy in disgust. "Orange-and-black lollipops. How American."

"Well," Harry argued, "apparently this......film....is geared towards the American Muggles. It makes sense that...."

"He's right, Harry. Not even Hogwarts would have anything so tasteless on the banquet tables." Hermione was anxiously scanning the Great Hall on the screen for, no doubt, a glimpse of Snape. Ron was doing the same, although Harry was blowed if he knew what his friend was looking for. The background music was starting to get oppressive. All of them jumped when the doors at the end of the hall banged open and disclosed the form of Quirrell, hurrying toward the dais. Malfoy snickered.

"Doesn't he look innocent," he said, flicking an M&M at the screen and managing to hit the tip of Quirrell's nose—which wasn't that hard, since the nose in question was about ten feet high. Harry snorted.

"Not half as innocent as the real one did. He really had me fooled, you know." Even as he said it he was aware of the opportunity he had just handed Malfoy, but the pale boy merely nodded. 

"I know. Funny, normally when Vol..........when He got his claws into someone, you could tell just by being around them, but he was just boring old Quirrell."

Ron scowled at them. "This coming from the Death Eater Junior?"

"Shut up, Weasel," said Malfoy mildly. "Ah, look, you're about to be heroic again." He pointed at the two boys on the screen timidly approaching the girls' bathroom. Hermione, sitting next to him, went pink.

".........stupid troll....." she muttered. Harry flicked a glance at her.

"Wonder what it thought it was doing in a girls' bathroom," mused Malfoy. "Checking its lipstick, perhaps? Sneaking a quick cigarette?"

"Eating people," said Hermione crossly. "That's what they do. It must've smelled me and thought it would have a nibble." Malfoy made exaggerated sniffing noises, eliciting another high-speed M&M attack. Ron was watching with interest as the troll—another of these strange Muggle non-magical illusions—smashed the hell out of the bathroom.

"Cor," he said. "Was it really like that? I don't remember, I was so bloody petrified of it I didn't notice what it was doing to the place."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, only it took care to break all the mirrors too. Don't think trolls like mirrors."

"Can you blame them?" Malfoy drawled. "Really, the green _and_ the warts is a bit much."

Harry grinned in spite of himself. "Hermione, watch, Snape's probably gonna show up soon."

Hermione threw him a Look of Death, but she did sit up and watch the screen more carefully. Sure enough, the screen-Snape came hurrying in after McGonagall and Quirrell, and both Malfoy and Harry glanced at Hermione as she took in the blood dripping from his lacerated leg. Her face tightened a little, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of a response. 

Ron was watching as, on the screen, the trio's alliance was forged. "I don't remember it being like that," he argued. "Hermione, you took responsibility for the whole thing, and then you apologized for being such a know-it-all, and you told me I was the most handsome boy you'd ever met, and you said that I was much better at magic than you, and...."

"Shut up, Ron," said Harry and Hermione, just as Malfoy said, "Shut up, Weasel."

The scene changed to yet another depiction of the Great Hall, and the children were discussing Quidditch, opening match of. Harry shuddered. "I remember that," he said. "I was bloody terrified."

"You look it," said Malfoy dryly. "Oh, look who it is."

Snape had suddenly appeared behind them, monochromatic and threatening, and wished Harry luck in his match. "Even if it is against..............Slytherin," he added, giving them an unreadable look, and limped off at high speed. Hermione bit her knuckles as the camera pulled back to show him disappearing down the long row of tables, black robes billowing out behind him like wings.

"Creepy," said Ron, and no one disagreed with him. On the screen, owls suddenly poured into the Hall, eliciting oohs and aahs from the Muggle audience as they had before, and began raining packages down on the tables.

"You know," said Harry, "it's surprising no one gets knocked out by a well-aimed fruitcake, isn't it? They're just dropping stuff right and left and........_here_ we go." The owls had deposited what was very clearly a broomstick wrapped in brown paper in the screen-Harry's hands. "I wonder what their vision of a Nimbus 2000 is."

"Given their general understanding of magical aviation, probably a slightly bigger knobbly stick with sticks tied to one end," said Malfoy sourly. "I don't get why your dad's so taken with their technology, Weasel." But they were unwrapping the broomstick, and even he shut up, because it was really rather an attractive broomstick: ergonomic handle, carefully shaped tail, Nimbus logo set in steel into the wood. "Damn."

"Damn," echoed Ron, going a trifle pale.

"What is it?" Harry wanted to know. Ron swallowed and pasted a smile on his face. 

"Nothing, nothing. Funny coincidence, isn't it?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Weasley............it was you, wasn't it? You leaked the Nimbus design to your dad and he must've let some Muggle catch a glimpse of it........Weasel, Weasel, Weasel, I'm disappointed in you."

Harry put a steadying hand on Ron's arm and hissed "Kill him later. We have to finish our mission from Dumbledore first."

Hermione finished the M&Ms and crumpled the bag into a tiny little ball. "I'm going to set fire to Snape," she muttered. "I'm going to watch that girl....that Hermione set fire to Snape."

"Mmm," said Malfoy equably, "and I'm going to laugh."

Harry gave up. "And I'm going to Petrify the lot of you. Honestly, it's way too much bother to be a peacemaker among you guys."

"Harry, I realized that years ago," said Hermione, still staring woodenly at the screen. "Shut up, would you, and let us watch the film?"

The screen showed the Gryffindor team in funny-looking Quidditch robes waiting to enter the pitch, and Ron gave a half-heard little sigh as Wood smiled down at Harry. Malfoy didn't bother to say anything, merely smiled a nasty little smile.

And then it was Quidditch. It was astonishingly Quidditch. Although the pitch was too oval, not long enough, and the stands were bizarrely shaped like packets of saltines stood on end, it was Quidditch. Hermione was a little green after the first five minutes. 

"How do you stand it?" she demanded. "All that.......swooping around......and being so high off the ground, and people coming at you from all angles, and......."

All three boys turned to look at her. "You mean you don't _like_ playing Quidditch?" they asked. She sighed and turned her attention back to the screen. Harry's broom had just begun to buck and jerk in an effort to throw him off, and she watched—knowing what to look for now—and saw Snape muttering to himself with his eyes locked on Harry, and behind him Quirrell with a look of blank malice on his face, muttering almost twice as fast.

"How could we have missed that?"

"Hell," said Ron, "we figured Snape for the bad guy because he did his best to look and act like one. It wasn't like he was nice, or anything."

"Still," said Hermione. "I suppose we were all pretty young and stupid at the time, too."

"Eleven wasn't my best year," Malfoy agreed magnanimously. "Hey, look, you're setting Snapey on fire." Hermione cringed. Blue-orange fire was licking merrily around Snape's ankles.

Because they knew what had really happened, they were able to watch as Quirrell lost his concentration in the confusion and Harry's broom suddenly came under his control again. After that the match was faster, more desperate; even Malfoy found himself on the edge of his seat as he watched the two Seekers neck and neck pursuing the Snitch—and then followed Harry on his dive. "Wronski Feint," said Ron matter-of-factly.

But it wasn't just the Wronski Feint. Harry.......what was he doing? thought Hermione... leaned forward and stood up on the broom, arms outspread, and......."Oh, that's just ridiculous," said Malfoy.

"Broomsurfing! Cool!" said Ron. Harry went red and tried to shrink. He was too late; already, the screen-Harry had almost swallowed the Snitch, and was on his hands and knees on the grass of the pitch, gagging. Malfoy was convulsed with laughter.

"Way to catch the thing," he giggled. "'Youngest Seeker In a Century Chokes to Death on Snitch During First Match,'" and Harry leaned over and hit him. He paid very little attention, and Harry had to admit it was pretty funny, given the situation. 

"Well," he said, shaking his hand to stop the stinging, "as I've remarked, at least I don't look as if I've used a whole bottle of Sleekeazy Potion on my hair _after_ dyeing it blond with the stuff Rita Skeeter uses."

Malfoy went pale. "You dare?" he said.

Harry thought. "Well, maybe half a bottle."

tbc


End file.
